Private Tales A Wild Hunt

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Hunting never was clean. By its very essence, it could never be the gentleman's sport nobles made it out to be. Hunting was instinctual, primal. One could dress it in gold and sash it with regal composure, but it was and still is animalistic at its depths. Askandr knew of this, a fact of life he wished he had never learned. And here he was, being hunted by a group of slavers for having felled a band of their brothers and stealing their spoils of a successful raid.

He sat there in the aftermath of a chase, basking in the moonlight with a dozen or so arrows embedded into the gaps of his armor, one stuck deep into where his left eye ought to be. There were no bodies; no blood spilled this night except for his and those who pursued them. Leaning back against a rock, he picked at each arrow, pulling them out individually. Before he stood an orc family, watching with surprise. Even with their hardy constitution, they knew surviving that amount of arrows stabbed into one's body was unnatural. But he saved them, and they would not question the stranger's nature.

"Thank you." The group's male grumbled, wiping sweat off his thick brow. "We feared the worst. That a lifetime of servitude and cruelty awaited us. Is there anything we can do to repay you?"

The children, a pair of them, peeked from behind the taller orc as they watched Askandr pull arrow after arrow out from his body, each tipped with the cold blood from within his body.

"Leave me." Askandr tilted his head, a softened growl leaving his throat.

"But we can't leave you to those men. They won't take kindly to what you just did. Come with us, sir."

"It is not me who you should be fearful for." Askandr's voice crept dangerously low, his head lowered towards the child and the woman with them who stood by her mate's side. "Now go. I will be alright. Return to your tribe."

They nodded, taking a cautious step back at the man before turning to the opposite of where they ran from, the orc male crossing his chest with a sturdy arm, a salute, and thank you all in one gesture. "You are an honorable man. I wish you well, stranger, and I hope we meet again on more favorable terms." They disappeared into the woods. Askandr sighed in relief before that reprieve was broken with a piercing voice that boomed inside his head.

"What are you doing? Wasting meat again?" How are we to survive if you let go of opportunities like this? We run like prey when we could have feasted on them all. What a grand feast it would have been." His mind thundered with a bestial voice, grasping at his head with what felt like the sharpest of claws, digging into him ruthlessly. He shook free the thought, stumbling backward from the orcs into the base of a stone. It was strong, the pain, the voice...the urge. It came again, something it rarely did.

"You will lead us to our demise! Your honor, what good is that? Blood is blood. Innocent, guilty, good, evil. You can't drink those...Give. Me. Control. NOW.."

"Get out of my head!" It was a pain he hadn't felt in such a long time, the throbbing, the swirling of voices flooding his ears. He clutched at the sides of his helmet, letting out a scream that pierced the tranquil night air, a scream that slowly churned into a bestial roar.

 

[Margot Triss]

A soft snort of the steed beneath her woke Margot from her reverie. She had spent the better part of her day gathering herbs and the like to care for the knights back at home. She liked to be well stocked and prepared, especially with all the unrest across the land as of late.

She blinked slowly as she came out of her thoughts, something wasn't quite right. She could feel the horse beneath her trembling, what would make it tremble? It was battle tested. Still, she pressed onward, the dark of the night not oppressive for the Knight of Dawn.

The air felt thick, she felt as though something was going to happen, perhaps happened already. She too started to feel anxious, and urged the ghost colored horse beneath her to hurry. They were far from home, too far.

A scream pierced the air, it was one of tortured pain. She kept going for a beat, and then paused. No, she couldn't ignore it. If it were man, she'd give aid. If it were beast, we'll she'd have to put it down. She gripped the reins tight and made for the sound, kicking her horse into a thundering gallop.

They broke through into a small clearing, and before she could react to anything she was in the air. The horse let out a scream, and reared, sending her out of the saddle and onto the ground. It took off and all she could do was lay there in pain, the wind knocked out of her.

Blonde hair fanned out around her, her crystal blue eyes closing as she gasped for air. No, it definitely was not fun to be thrown in full armor, and the fact that she was thrown at all meant something powerful was around. She started to panic as she tried to catch her breath, if it was powerful, she was a sitting duck. She gripped the earth with slender fingers, waiting to be killed, devoured, anything along those lines.

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

There was no rest when such a relentless force etched itself into the very heart of a man. Askandr felt the clawing, the biting, the snapping. It was like having a wolf caged in your mind, scratching and biting at its flesh. The plated helm he wore hid the agonized pain on his face. Another piercing scream, not of man or beast, but something that took the worst aspects of both and bathed them in a pool of bloodlust.

He clutched at his helm, almost bending the steel, the magical enchantment of his armor the only thing keeping him from doing so. Even then, it was only barely. Askandr would have smashed the helmet into his head were it not for the horse shrieking before him, the beast rearing and dismounting its rider before galloping away.

The vampire froze, unsure of what to make of the dismounted rider. He sensed no danger from the stranger. It was the opposite of it from what his senses gathered. He straightened himself, the confusion slowly wearing away to caution as that black-plated stance straightened, helmed head looking down at Margot. A towering figure dipped in midnight, bristling with the feathers of a dozen arrows seeping into the gaps of his harness.

He made no move to harm. but no motion to aid as his deep voice broke the silent tension.

"Identify yourself."

Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

Finally, air filled her lungs again, and she took a deep gasping breath. Her limbs still weren't obeying her, and she cursed silently to herself. Some knight she was, being unseated by her horse. Still, she hadn't been ripped apart, so there were small mercies. She opened her eyes, the moonlight making her hair all but glow as she stared up at the night sky.

A figure appeared, blocking out the light. Her azure eyes searched the towering figure above her but saw nothing that told her if he were friend or foe. His voice seemed to seep into her bones, making her tremble slightly. She took a beat before answering, now aware of the arrows that protruded from his body. "My name is Margot, I'm a knight." She rolled to her side with a groan and then to a sitting position.

If he had wanted to kill her, he would have. Her eyes wandered over the shafts of the arrows again and the medic in her couldn't help but offer aid. "I am a combat medic, and I see you've been in combat. Can I offer assistance?" Perhaps she would continue to interact without a fight if she offered it? She still didn't feel as if she were in the clear. There was something beneath the surface that continued to place fear in her heart.

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

He waited, surprised at how the woman did not seem worried in his presence, given the circumstances. Was it from ignorance of what monstrosity stood before her or confidence in her skill of arms? Askandr waited until she sat up. Not a single muscle moved.

She was a knight, or so she claimed to be, but he did not recognize the armor's origin. Was it of Vel Anir? It had been long since he had paid attention to his homeland's order of knights and their affairs. But he did not think they would be in such woods and so late of an hour. And when she offered help, he couldn't help but bristle, stance freezing at the question. It sounded sincere, but past experiences would say otherwise.

"What are you doing out here like this? There are no humans here wounded; you have nobody to tend to.."

There was a side of him that would have liked to help her, but that side was overridden by a bestial paranoia, at best keeping him there in stillness.

Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

The raw tension in the air was so palpable that it begged Margot to lick her lips. She was still sitting on the ground, neither figure had deigned to move once she had positioned herself in that way. She was waiting to see if he would strike, if she indeed had to defend herself. She had the light on her side, but she had no idea what to expect from such a..man?

He spoke again, he was asking all the questions and she was expected to answer it seemed. Margot blinked slowly as she searched his silhouette, her blue doe eyes filled with a fear her trained body did not reflect. She swallowed the small lump in her throat and smiled slightly. "No, there are no wounded or sick to tend to. I had spent my time collecting herbs for our stores. I enjoy the task, and that is why I'm out here. Though, I would say you are wounded and need tending to."

Finally, she began to pull herself up, first to her knees, and then to her feet. He was still tall and foreboding, but at least the were on equal footing. She kept her gaze trained on him, wetting her lips again. "Who did that to you anyways?" She made to step forward, her medical brain once again taking over, the desire to help.

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Her words sounded amicable, ad the swell of her voice warm. Askandr nearly forgot what it was like to be helped by someone. But the lingering instinct built by years of bestial circumstance prickled at the back of his mind. As she stepped forward, he stepped back, the arrows on his body doing little to hinder his movements.

"It is dangerous to be out in such a place at such a time. Even more so now since you've lost your steed." His alertness died down somewhat. Despite the efforts of his instincts, it was difficult to find any danger in the woman before him. Askandr shook his head, posture straightening with the blade at his back hanging loosely. As she moved closer, he would stand still and without reaction.

"They were trespassers. Manhunters and slavers, who entered my hunting grounds." His head swiveled around them, implying that this entire area was where he 'hunted.'

Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

He stepped back from her, and she paused. She Held her hands up disarmingly. She wanted to prove she was of no danger to the man. Was he a man? The way he moved with that many arrows embedded, perhaps she was in danger. Yet, he was the one that kept distance from her.

As he spoke, that deep rumble of his speech soaking her bones, she merely shrugged. "I am far from helpless, I have my blade, and the power of Dawn behind me. My mount will return home, as taught. If I don't send word, my people will be out looking for me. I am safe enough." This time as she moved forward, he remained.

He answered her question, and she raised a brow as she tried to meet his eyes. "It is lucky you are around to rid this place of such filth." She paused, her next question hanging heavy between them. She raised a hand and touched the shaft of a protruding arrow before speaking again. "What is it that you hunt here?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

The swell of magic could be felt, and her fingertips glowed with a soft golden light. The arrows would slowly remove themselves and drop the ground, and once finished she backed away giving him space, a small hint of fear she couldn't quell in her eyes. "You were pierced by many arrows, but there were no real wounds for me to seal.." She could feel her chest tighten, and even if she wanted to bolt, she felt like she couldn't leave his presence either. What was he.

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Her voice was more soothing than he cared to admit. It had been some time since he heard such a tone spoken to him—an air of concern that grew foreign to him with the passing decades. He should be alarmed, cautious, and paranoid about why this woman clad in regalia would show such. His instincts told him to regard her skeptically, but distant memories advised otherwise.

"I hunt my own kind. I hunt monsters." His voice was low, almost a whisper. Nostalgic were his thoughts as his mind drifted to the past when he was a mortal like herself. She would find Askandr at his most docile, that aura of danger subdued as she approached him without resistance.

The light and sudden surge of magic was met with an inhale of breath. He couldn't react fast enough to move, having lowered his guard. But he was surprised. Instead of the sting and agony of holy light, he felt a surge of soothing energy. He had no use for it, the energy accomplishing the equivalent of a warm touch and hug, but it had been so long since he felt such sensations.

The arrows fell from his armor's gaps quickly, his wounds closing with little aid from the blood within him. A relaxed sigh left Askandr's chest, his tense shoulders easing somewhat. There was uncertainty as he regained his senses, his eyes scanning Margot up and down.

"I...thank you for the aid. It..has been some time since someone has done such a thing."

Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

He seemed to relax under her touch, his intensity dying down enough for her to catch her breath. He was terrifying, but in the same breath, fascinating. He spoke again, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "You hunt monsters..." She paused. "Like yourself?" He was open about it, and Margot had to process that she was indeed correct, he wasn't human.

His honesty broke the fear, and she stepped towards him again. Perhaps she should be afraid, but for now there was only curiosity and perhaps a touch of sympathy. "You're why my horse bolted, aren't you? Why fear crawls under my skin even though you've yet to threaten me?"

Margot did not press as to what kind of monster he could be, though she had an inkling. She reached out to touch him again gently, it was as if hypnotized. She was so fascinated she couldn't help herself. She muttered something along the lines of a you're welcome, but the words died on her lips.

Moonlight filtered down onto her pale face, danced in her blonde hair. Blue doe eyes looked up at the man...the monster in front of her. She was supposed to kill those that weren't human, but never had she had the chance to speak to and learn from one. She paused, a trickle of wet behind her ear.

She thought perhaps first it was sweat from her exertions, but upon pressing her hand to the spot, revealed that perhaps her fall hadn't been without injury. She drew her hand in front of her, the dark glisten of blood upon her fingertips. Why hadn't she noticed before?

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

Askandr kept silent as the realization dawned on her. Beneath his helmet, his lips flattened as she learned of his true nature. A part of him, a thin sliver, wished the truth of his being to be delayed, but he knew better. And it surprised him that she did not shy away or cower in fear at this truth but rather her hand reached out to touch the cold steel of his armor.

It was a nice feeling, despite not warming his skin; the gesture of being touched like that was enough for him to forget about many things. He forgot for the moment how that place she felt would be the same spot a blade would run through or a claw would rend. It was much more common to feel the pain of hostility than the gentle touch placed now there.

But just as the reprieve came, so too did it go away as Margot drew away and felt the damp blood behind her ear. Askandr took a step back, more afraid of what he could do than fearful of her. The smell of it became apparent as that moment of warmth faded away. It was clawing away at him again, and all he could do was cover his face, trying to block the scent that tore into him, the sight of red crimson magnifying the urge he did so much to keep at bay. Askandr's words dripped out with a slow tone, afraid of what his mouth might do if it were not carrying his voice at this very moment.

"You need to tend to your wounds...Now."

Margot Triss

 

[Margot Triss]

He took a step back from her as she still looked upon her blood stained palm. It dawned on her as to why his voice was strained, and the tension resumed yet again. It solidified to her that he was no monster, not really.

Margot hastily placed her fingertips to the spot where blood still oozed, a harsh color in the light of the moon. The light appeared again, and she sighed as flesh mended and the pounding in her ears died. Upon finishing she looked up at him again, his helmet obscuring his face.

"It must be lonely, the life you lead. I'm sorry." Her brows furrowed as she contemplated for a moment how he probably had to live, what a sad and lonely life that must be. She was lonely too, but not like that. She could only sympathize, she couldn't quite relate.

She went to speak again, but a rustle of many footsteps approaching with haste and meaning behind them made her pause. She looked at Askandr, then towards the nearing ruckus. "Slavers?" She questioned tartly. If so, they were not welcome and would be dealt with by her hand, or his.

Askandr Korotkov Stryzga

 

[Askandr Korotkov Stryzga]

He waited, watching with a vice grip that shook the steel plate of his armor. It took only moments for Margot to heal her scratches, but to Askandr, it felt like an eternity, waiting for that wound to close. Waiting for the blood to dry out and to disappear, and even then, the traces of it threatened him with its sanguine allure. Askandr waited a few moments after her wounds closed to begin talking again, his senses now raised to an elevated high.

"Duty comes before desire. Even after death..." He shook his head, the apology nice but knew it did little for his situation. His head swiveled to the treeline a few hundred meters from where they stood in the clearing. She mentioned slavers.

"Shattered. A thousand pieces thrown into the wind." There were still traces of them but they were of little threat compared to their initial formation. Askandr made sure of it.

"But what of your task?" He asked it was a simple question, but there was more to it. At night in a place like this, it would be better to have someone watch over you on the chance of encountering an unwanted encounter.

Margot Triss